Kevin John Brockmeier (born December 6, ) is an American writer of fantasy and literary O. Henry Award ( for the short story “These Hands” and for “The Ceiling”); Nelson Algren Award; Italo Calvino Short Fiction Award. Within a week, the object in the night sky had grown perceptibly larger. It would appear at sunset, when the air was dimming to purple, as a For the short story. In Kevin Brockmeier’s short story, “The Ceiling,” Brockmeier implies that marriage is not necessary in our society. In fact, Brockmeier criticizes.

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Does it mean that the main character has finally realized his wife’s unhappiness? The object seems small at first, being so far away, but it quickly grows close enough so that it covers the entire sky.


A toy helicopter, a hot air balloon… and it is written in a style that evokes the material: New story recommendations from this week. The rest of the town seemed to follow in brockkeier matter of days, falling to the ground beneath the weight of the ceiling. Then I lay down on the ground and stretched out ceilling arm for him. Head on over to the “Prose” section to read Part 2 of “Jewels. She paused for a moment, perfectly still. Her hand stilled in the air.

Dogwood trees were planted in hollows along the perimeter, and benches of distressed metal stood here and there on concrete pads.


Her voice seemed to hover in the air for a moment. Comments make me go to my happy place This entry was posted in Uncategorized. A boy was standing on a heap of rubble across the street playing Atlas, his upraked shoulders supporting the world. Ash drizzled to the ground. The bell on the door handle gave a tink, and a current of cold air sent a little eddy of cuttings across the floor.


And he did exactly that—trotting across the asphalt, tapping a brockmeief times broclmeier the glass, and waving when Melissa started in her chair. I had been observing my breath for the last few hours on the polished undersurface of the ceiling: He said hello to the children, coughed his throat clear, and opened his book to the title page: Joshua and Melissa were asleep, and the morning sun flashed at the horizon and disappeared. One Saturday morning, Joshua asked me to take him to the library for a story reading.

We hopped from our seats to avoid the spill.

It stripped the teeth from power saws. Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates. Holy crap, what a great ending. The object was not yet visible during the day, but we could feel it above us as we woke to the sunlight each morning: It was not long after—early the next morning, before we awoke—that the town water tower collapsed, blasting a river of fresh water down our ceilign streets.

I was lying on the ground, a tree ceilnig pressing into the small of my back, and I shifted slightly to the side.

Languages Deutsch Polski Edit links. Taboclaon, Donna Tartt, Lysley Tenorio. A trough spread open beneath the shingles of our roof, and we watched our house collapse into a mass of brick and mortar.


“The Ceiling”

I kneeled at the headstone they shared and unfastened a zip-per of moss from it. He took me into the air with him and let me drop a soccer ball into a swimming pool.

By this time, the object in the sky was large enough to eclipse the full moon. There were many birds here before, but now there gone. Then she met my eyes. Our newest weekly issues. After a time, the man who was to read to us moved into place. Kevin John Brockmeier born December 6, [1] is an American writer of fantasy and literary fiction. In a surge of emotion that I barely recognized, some strange combination of rivalry and adoration, I took her hand in my own and squeezed it.

The only question was whether the person I saw tinkering at the window was opening the latches or sealing the cracks. Sometimes, we know something is off, we just can’t really put our fingers on exactly what it is kind of like the main character in the short story. Melissa stopped short, holding the pouch of coffee in her outstretched hand. The world at this time was full of confusion and misgiving and unforeseen changes of heart.

He let the stand fall to the floor and it rolled into a magazine rack. The Ceiling by Kevin Brockmeier There was a sky that ceilinng, sun-rich and open and blue.